Old School
by Mostly Harmless III
Summary: Batman and Superman fight to the death to save their cities from giant pandas and lime Jell-O! Whisky Tango Foxtrot...? Comedy with explosions, just the way you like it. Slash. Not beta-read. Violence, adult language.


Title: Old School

Pairing: Superman/Batman

Warnings: Violence, explosions, language. Not beta-read. No continuity.

Author's note: This is what happens when you clean off your hard drive. You find fics you don't remember writing and end up finishing them in ways you probably didn't intend to. At least stuff blows up.

* * *

Old School

Formerly Titled: Old School Crack Where Batman and Superman Fight for no Reason and Stuff Blows Up Real Good and Stuff, Yo, Yo, fo' Real, it's the Sheezy

* * *

The gauntlet is thrown.

Mxyzptlk and Bat-Mite could have been doing any number of things: comparing notes on the 5th Dimension, measuring the relative sizes of their bellies, wondering how Wonder Woman kept those puppies up at all…

And other such universal mysteries.

Instead, they were watching Superman and Batman make preparations to kill each other.

They floated on a cloud and looked down at the proceedings with anticipation.

Behind them, a giant chalkboard with the letters 'S' and 'B' waited for tick marks to tally the points. The heroes had two hours left to prepare for the Ultimate Battle unless they wanted their respective cities destroyed in appropriately impossible ways.

Gotham could withstand a plague and an earthquake, but could it withstand an attack from an army of 85-foot tall robotic pandas on the warpath?

And was Metropolis any match for a flood of lime Jell-o?

Mxyzptlk and Bat-Mite were willing to bet on 'No.'

Their playground was a sprawling megalopolis created by the two 5th dimensions dwellers. It was an endless, empty city, and on either side of it was a hideout for the two Justice League members to plan and recuperate. Batman's Corner, as Bat-Mite insisted on calling it, was shadowed and gothic with stone spires piercing the sky. At its farthest edge was a replica Batcave, deep beneath the earth where even more shadows obscured it, shrouding it in mystery.

Superman's Corner was a glistening city of glass and steel and light. The sun was bright and perfect and the sky blue, a sharp contrast to the midnight dark and clouded heavens above Batman's half of the city. Opposite the hidden Batcave in the bright city was a crystalline Fortress of Solitude. For all intents and purposes, these two legends faced each other like kings on a chessboard, with the towering buildings separating the playing field. The only major difference in the design of the Cave and the Fortress was something inspired by a movie Mxyzptlk had seen.

He'd explained the principles to Bat-Mite excitedly.

"No, no, you're missing the point. It was a little like home, wise-guy! They got zapped into this infinitely programmable white room, thought of what they wanted, and it was there! Anything they wanted! In impressive CGI!"

Bat-Mite had scratched his chin contemplatively, a maneuver he'd picked up from his hero. "What did these movie guys want?"

"Guns. Lots and lots of bang, bang guns. And black leather. Sunglasses. A chance to say 'Whoa!'"

"Hey! Batman doesn't use guns!"

"Well Superman doesn't need them! I'm just saying lets give them the tools to make this really interesting."

So both the Cave and the Fortress were equipped with a computer they called the "Wishmaker." Anything the World's Finest asked for would be theirs. Within limits, of course.

It had been decided early on that too much freedom with the computer could stop the festivities too soon. After all, both Batman and Superman had proven their trickiness when it came to stopping Mxyzptlk's fun. With the safeguards in place, the game was on. Mxyptlk and Bat-Mite hadn't had this much fun since the last time they'd bothered their heroes mercilessly.

The settled down and watched the events unfold.

* * *

The Pre-Fight Rally:

Batman 0, Superman 0

Bat-Mite made it clear whom he was cheering for. He carried a flag with the Bat-symbol emblazoned on it. Mxyzptlk wasn't shy or quiet either with his button that sang loudly that "Superman is our King!" He really took sides when, not long into the preparation stage, he proclaimed that Batman was—

"—a stinkin', lousy cheat!"

"What? Who? How?" Bat-Mite inquired and yawned, floating on the air with his legs crossed.

"That Batty-Bat! He hacked the computer! He's making it do things it's not designed to do! How many modes of transportation do you even need? What does he need a tank for, anyway?"

Bat-Mite's grin beneath the ill-fitted cowl was sinister. "That's not cheating. It's what he does. Read the profile," he said and rolled out a large, colorful chart to illustrate his point. Using a pointer, he tapped the diagram emphatically, lingering on the ears as if they were particularly important.

"Alpha Level Threat, _why_? Because he's a genius! No superpowers, just brains and cunning! And snark. And you know, like, kung fu! And…well, an elaborate assortment of gadgets. And lots and lots of money and a company to use like it's his personal toy box so he can have even _more_ gadgets. AND he throws things from his utility belt! He's got wicked aim. Don't even _try_ to beat him at darts. Just _don't_. Besides, nothing he does should be considered cheating when your guy can _change the rotation of the Earth_ and shoot _laser beams_ from his eyes!"

The killing blow was when Bat-Mite tapped the picture with excessive force and added, "And don't forget the EARS. Your guy doesn't HAVE ears!"

Mxyzptlk let off some steam literally, thick plumes of smoke pouring from his ears. So be it. He supposed you couldn't give the world's greatest detective a computer and expect him not to hack it. It wasn't like it was going to do any good against Superman. His retribution came shortly thereafter when Bat-Mite screamed:

"He's CHEATING!" He pointed across the horizon where another assortment of buildings crumbled. "He's destroying Batman's advantage! How can the Dark Knight leap from rooftops if there are NO ROOFTOPS?"

"Hmmmm? Could you mean our Stud of Steel? To quote you: 'Read the profile.'"

A flashy widescreen TV popped into existence. A sexy reporter in a skin-tight suit explained Superman's powers with a huge grin on her perfect face. Video footage highlighted his greatest moments all set to music by John Williams.

Lex Luthor in a power-suit? Toast.

Doomsday? Toast.

Martian invaders. Toast, toast, toast.

It was all in High Definition and Superman looked _great_.

Mxyzptlk looked smug about his own technological superiority. The reporter's cup size seemed to increase as the minutes passed by. Her smile kept pace with her chest as she spoke. "Our dashing hero can fly faster than a speeding bullet, run faster than a speeding train and shoot freakin' lasers out of his freakin' eyes!"

Bat-Mite harrumphed. Mxyzptlk glowed triumphantly.

"X-ray vision, freezing breath, impervious skin, fetching indestructible curl! The man does it all! He's strong, too! Move mountains? No problem! Now, Bat-Brain, you tell me, who's the Alpha Level Threat _now_?"

Bat-Mite's anger boiled over, turning him red and then redder. Mxyzptlk looked as happy as a clam until, quite suddenly, Bat-Mite's anger disappeared entirely and he carefully pronounced a single word:

"Kryp-to-nite," he said, glowing green.

Mxyzptlk glared daggers at him, lit a cigar and glared a few more. Bat-Mite deflected them by throwing things from his utility belt at them. His aim was pretty good.

"You just had to bring up the kryptonite, didn't you? Just HAD to! Well, I can one up you!"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Oh, yeah!"

"Well dig deep 'cause no little green rock gets to my champ! He's Batman! He eats Kryptonite for breakfast."

"Yeah, well there's more than one way to skin a Bat. Try this on for size!" And here his smile widened to cosmic sizes and the smoke from his cigar formed terrible, terrible shapes. "Dead. Robins."

The smoky crowbar dissipated and formed a smoky skull and crossbones.

Bat-Mite hissed at him. "This means WAR!"

"Bring it, Bat-boy!"

"Oh, it's _so_ been brought, Super-freak!"

* * *

Round One:

Batman 0, Superman 1

This one was the greatest of them all.

He wanted to call it something classy.

Bat-Tank had a certain ring to it. The other cars in his new arsenal were good, but this one was better.

It had satellite targeting and weapons that, even if they couldn't actually _stop_ Superman, would certainly knock him out of the sky.

It was armored to withstand the alien's blows for up to twenty minutes.

And it had a really, really big gun. Bruce felt a smile forming and stifled it. Now wasn't the time to gloat.

The targeting device slid out and lowered over his eye with a satisfying click. He focused and had just enough time to admire how clear the picture was.

Just enough time to get Superman in his sites.

Just enough time to _think_ about pulling the trigger.

Had just enough time to say, "Ah, shit," before the huge I-beam he'd only just now noticed in Superman's hands came flying with precision accuracy at the tank's really, really big gun.

The impact sent him hard against the seat and he estimated that the tank had slid over forty yards.

_Into_ another building. He came to a halt in the lobby. And his finger just brushed the top of the pressure-sensitive trigger.

The really, really big gun couldn't fire around the blockage and the entire blast went up and out.

The explosion was concussive and the building shook on its supports. And then promptly came crashing down on top of him.

"Clark," he said as he hit the eject button. "I really _hate_ you."

Watching the building come down from high above, Superman smiled. "I've told you a million times, Bruce. It's not the size that matters."

He brushed a piece of lint off his shoulder. "It's how you use it."

* * *

Round Seven:

Batman 4, Superman 3

"Bruce, just…_don't_!" Superman screamed.

"Bye, bye," Batman said and put his thrusters in reverse.

The tether caught and an excruciating metal groan ripped across the battleground.

Superman gave one last tug at the bizarre machine that had him in its grasp. It was a giant hand that had emerged from the ground. It was his first encounter with the extent to which Bruce had altered the city he'd been given.

How had he tricked the computer into building _this_?

From what he could see of the ground that wasn't lined with lead, everything beneath his feet was an extensive network of machines.

The city they had given Superman _appeared_ to be a technological wonder with its tall spires and glass and steel. Batman's city _was_ one for all that it looked like something from Bram Stoker's 'Dracula'.

And now Wayne Towers—or a fairly believable replica—was being pulled down on his head and he couldn't move.

He'd fallen for a trap in Batman's city. He almost felt like smiling.

The last thing he thought as the girders snapped and the building tumbled towards him was, "Well, this is going to hurt."

5

4

3

2

1

Crash.

Batman released the lines and brought his newest plane up sharply until he crested before the moon of his own city, a giant bat, the terror of the night. He outraced the plumes of smoke and dust that covered the ground in the wake of the collapse. Righting himself, he looked down at the blanket of gray and brown that moved like London fog far below.

He had the computer zoom in on a shaking hand emerging from the debris.

"You're right," he said to the pile of rubble hiding Superman. "Size doesn't matter." He hit a button and the numerous machine hands and weapons he had built and programmed emerged from the ground menacingly, waiting for Superman to emerge.

"But it helps," he added.

* * *

Round Ten:

Batman 5, Superman 5

Three days. The damn heroes had been fighting, without sleep, for three days. There was banter.

There were even clever one-liners.

Mxyzptlk and Bat-Mite were the kind of guys who liked good clean fun.

But when it lasted for days and you couldn't even hear the world around you for the explosions…

And you had to magic up earplugs…

And the tanks just kept coming…

And _Superman_ was joyfully keeping a tally of how many he took out…

Well, it was days like that you started to question if you were living your life the right way.

Batman's city looked flattened, like the stone had been cut off at the knee and couldn't bother to stand up. Metropolis looked like a disaster zone. Batman's attacks _had_ been aimed at Superman. The one's that hit looked like they hurt the Man of Steel. The ones that missed sent skyscrapers to the ground.

The main road of the city was piled up on itself like a ribbon of asphalt. Sticking out of it at an odd angle was a sleek, black plane with a wingspan that could block out the sun.

It smoked steadily and Batman kicked it, once, with feeling. He tilted his head back and squinted at the sun, at the figure hovering before it like some great god of old.

"That one was much faster, Bruce," Superman said and crossed his arms. No one else in the world could cross their arms like that.

"Don't patronize me, Clark."

"I just wanted you to feel like you're doing _well_. The missiles on this one hurt more. If that was what you were going for, good job."

"Actually, I don't care if they _hurt_, I just care if they knock you down."

"I always get back up," Superman said and shrugged.

Batman's showed his teeth, a vicious expression. "Next time, stay down." Then he turned on his heels, cape swirling behind him, and marched off. Even over the wreckage of the city, he was fast and his cape made sharp, leathery sounds as he moved.

He knew the score, the same as Superman. But if Superman felt like he could keep knocking them out of the sky or ripping them from the ground _into_ the sky, then Batman felt like he could keep building them.

He could keep building them _forever_ for all he cared.

This was _war_.

And if maybe he was having fun…

Well, then, so be it.

Superman hid his smile until Batman was well out of normal sight. He had a hunch that Batman would be very disappointed if he stayed down. If he gave up. If he stopped coming up with new and creative ways to turn his gadgets into so much scrap.

It was a hunch based on his own feeling. He didn't want Bruce to give up. He wanted to see what ingenious thing he could build next.

And then he wanted to melt it into a puddle of gold and aluminum alloy.

He could keep this up forever. As long as Bruce could.

He cracked his knuckles and accessed the computer in the Cave with a little hacking trick he'd picked up. "I'm ready," he said. "Make this one worth my time."

"You're on," was the gruff reply.

* * *

Mxyzptlk and Bat-Mite weren't so sure they could keep up.

"Batman really is a lousy, stinkin' cheat," Mxyzptlk said and rubbed his aching head.

"I don't see how you can say that!"

"Superman has destroyed the Batplane eight times. Eight! How did he get the computer to give him EIGHT? How many damn planes does he _need_?"

"Apparently he needs all of them since Duper-man over there keeps blowing them up!"

Bat-Mite passed the bottle of aspirin to Mxyzptlk who took a couple and then passed it back. Bat-Mite took his with a Budweiser. "They're tied," he said and looked helpless. "Maybe we could—"

"Don't even think about it!" Mxyzptlk said stubbornly. "What's the point in a battle like this if the referees give up before the fighters?"

"Okay," Bat-Mite said reluctantly and took another swig. "But if he builds a machine army, you owe me another beer."

* * *

Round Eleven:

Batman 6, Superman 5

"You've got to be kidding me," Superman said and backed away.

In the Cave via satellite, Batman watched them march. He could hear the vibrations of their advance all the way down here. Metallic, heavy, cold and heartless. Dust fell from the ceiling.

Maybe he'd overdone it?

Nah.

"Ain't it cool?" he asked and hit the sequence of buttons to initiate the attack.

"You _so_ owe me another beer," Bat-Mite said.

Mxyzptlk looked at him soberly and said, "Bite me."

* * *

Round Twelve:

Batman 6, Superman 6

Batman fought his way from the circle of robots and took off running down the street. A clawed, metal hand clung to his cape and he ripped it off with a snarl. He stopped long enough to turn and throw it at one of the advancing machines. It pegged it on the head and at least his aim was still good.

They caught up easily and he remembered, exactly, how fast he had programmed them to be.

"This," he growled, "is cheating, Clark."

Superman leaned back on a cushy patch of air and sighed in contentment. Then he took a big handful of popcorn and shoved it in his mouth. The view from up here was _amazing_. "If you can build them," he said, chomping merrily, "I can re-program them."

Batman rounded a corner and he felt like being encouraging. "Run, Forest, run!" he twanged.

* * *

Batman rubbed at his sore back and tried again.

Damn machine army.

It had taken him some time to figure out, but the computer was logical, which meant he'd just had to use its own logic against it.

It had worked with the tanks, after all. Now he had something _different_ in mind.

"Computer, upload these specs and begin production," he said and waited.

The pleasant voice was jerky when it replied, "Design specifications are incompatible with program parameters. Invalid operation."

Batman raised an eyebrow. _This_ again? "Computer, state your protocols."

"To assist the life form known as Batman with his battle against Superman."

"Thank you. Believe me, _that _design will 'assist' me. You can even paint it black."

"Data files have no entry for life form Batman requiring equipment resembling the current design."

He glared. Of course he'd never needed it before, he'd never been forced into a situation like this before. He'd fought Clark many times to be sure, but this was different on several deadly levels.

If he couldn't have this new toy, he didn't want to play anymore. He smiled and pulled out a screwdriver. "Let's try this again."

* * *

Overtime:

Batman stood on one of the few remaining towers in his dark city. Somehow, Clark had left him the one with the most gargoyles. They all had familiar-looking ears and he wondered if Clark was getting sentimental.

He adjusted his gauntlets and there was a loud mechanic whine as the gears shifted. He took a step and the rooftop shook.

Thud, thud, thud. Something that sounded like steam through a pinhole rent the air.

This was his final stand. He'd watched his car blow up, melt, and be skillfully twisted into strange art deco shapes one too many times. They always went after _the car_.

Clark should have known better than to mess with the car.

He came to a halt and rolled his shoulders back. He swept the laser welded to the headkit across the stone ledge with a quick flick of his head. There was a delay, and then a crash of dust and rubble. Crude, but as close to laser vision as he could get with so little time and a computer with a logic error.

With a Mr. Freeze-style gun bolted to one alloy-encased arm, Batman could send out a blast at subzero temperatures.

He grabbed hold of sturdy gargoyle head and gave it a squeeze.

Whirr, chicka, whir.

Crunch.

It crumbled in the massive gauntlet wired to controls in his hand. It was a simple joystick design, like the wireless kind on that game system he'd gotten for Tim. He squeezed a little harder and the rock turned to dust.

Super-strength: check.

Who said video games were mindless?

He'd estimated that the suit would give him ten minutes of even footing with Superman. For ten minutes, he was as strong as the alien ever allowed himself to be.

The real problem was that Superman was restraint personified. Getting a true reading on his power was almost impossible because he held back.

He _always_ held back.

Ten minutes.

It would be the longest of his life.

Batman took a breath and said, "Clark, I hope you're ready. You seem to like smashing my toys to pieces. Good luck breaking this one."

* * *

Superman was before him in a flash. He whistled.

"Wow." A small circle in the air gave him a full view of the thing Bruce was piloting. For all intents and purposes, instead of building another tank, he'd built himself a tank on legs. For all that it was large and bulky with armor, he guessed it moved faster than it looked.

He narrowed his eyes and smiled. "Lead? Clever. I can't see what makes it tick."

He came in close, looked at the solid, articulated legs and impenetrable chest cavity. It was as if he had welded himself _into_ the suit. There was no easy way to get him out of it, no joints to rip apart or hatch to crack. "Better than anything Luthor ever built. And it's not puke green and garish purple either. Improvements abound!"

"My mother always said you can't go wrong with basic black."

"A wise woman. It looks good on you. Isn't it a little heavy with all that artillery?"

"Light as a feather."

Superman nodded and rubbed his chin. "Well, that's good to know. Say, while we're chatting, where do you keep the power supply?" he asked slyly.

"Like I'd tell you that," Batman growled. "How does your heat vision do against tungsten?"

"Oh, you know," Clark said and shrugged. "Better than average. Just f.y.i., but just because I can't _see_ it, doesn't mean I can't just smash it. I thought you would have learned that after plane number three."

"I _liked_ that plane."

"The wings were a little long. Compensating?"

Bat-Mite sniggered. Mxyzptlk whirled on him with droopy, tired eyes. "No laughing at the banter!"

"Come on! That was pretty good," Bat-Mite said and then froze.

There was a terrible, uncomfortable moment where the two 5th Dimension dwellers could only gawk at each other.

"Did you just—?" Mxyzptlk began.

"I…I think I did," Bat-Mite answered. "And I feel so dirty." He wiped at his tongue with his gauntlets. "So, so dirty."

Back on the battleground, Superman floated backwards and said, "Come on, Bruce, we don't have to do this."

"We both know that we do."

"No, I swear there's another way. We could settle this with Scrabble or Parcheesi or…tic-tac-toe!"

"I hate Parcheesi," Batman said and launched the first heat-seeking missile.

While Superman evaded, he got up to speed, took a running jump and went over the edge of the building. He landed, one massive arm knuckles down on the pavement and his knees bent.

The ground cracked at his feet.

With a resounding symphony of grinding gears and electronic sparks, the suit came to its full height.

"Lock on target," Batman said.

"Compliance," the computer said sweetly.

High above, Superman got tired of running. He turned, caught the missile in one fist, swung around on his toes in mid-air, and sent it back to where it came from.

"Shields," Batman ordered and a barrier of light spread out from the armor like a balloon expanding. The missile hit and sent fire and smoke rippling away. A mushroom cloud shot into the air.

"Bruce!" Superman cried. From above, it looked as if the suit had been engulfed in flame and destroyed. "No, no, no!"

He gathered air in his lungs and blew and his heart was loud in his chest and he felt cold sweat on his brow. Slowly, the smoke cleared away wraith-like, revealing the very whole, very undamaged form of Batman's mobile, upright tank.

"You missed," Batman said and launched another missile. Superman dodged to the side, kicked it as it passed and reveled in the satisfying sound of it careening into a building riddled with gargoyles.

"You're such a jerk," Superman said and charged. "And I really hate your _stupid_ toys." The ground rushed up, and he pulled up short, wound up and let it fly. He threw the first punch and the suit rocked back on its anvil-sized feet. Batman took a step back to balance. A jagged stream of ice shot at Superman's head.

Superman ducked, came up, got a hold of the freeze gun and ripped it off. He took to punching again, as if the simple, violent gesture made him feel better.

"And I wish you'd just stop _building_ things like this because you _know_ I'm just going to. Rip. Them. To pieces!"

The second, third, and fourth punches made Batman stagger back and then retreat. "Come on. You _like_ it," Batman taunted, but his voice was unsteady. "You admire me for my mind. Now fight me! I haven't even shown you my favorite feature."

Superman was seething, taking deep, ragged breaths. His knuckles were as red as his eyes. "No," he said.

He watched the suit, watched Batman's flat, white eyes watching him through the clear shield of the headkit.

"Come on, Bruce, don't do this," he begged. "Just give up." For a moment, an expression resembling resignation flashed across the Batman's narrowed eyes.

Then something large and canon-shaped slid from the bulbous back of his suit. It lifted jerkily and then settled into place smoothly. Superman had no idea how Batman had hid a rocket launcher of that size inside the suit. "Oh, hell," he whispered.

"You want me to quit?" Batman snarled and hit the big red button at his thumb. "Make me."

* * *

"They're tearing the place to pieces!" Mxyzptlk yelled and ducked as a piece of granite soared gracefully over where his head used to be.

Bat-Mite ran from a flying I-beam. "Damn that Superman!" he cursed. "Always throwing I-beams!" He shook his little fist at the sky.

"I can barely see the fight!" Mxyzptlk complained.

Bat-Mite nodded seriously. "Worse than that, I've lost track of the score!"

"Who cares who's winning!" Mxyzptlk hollered. "At this rate, they're gonna kill us, too!"

Another explosion battered the air.

Bat-Mite cringed. "What did you say about kung-fu?"

"I said: THEYR'E GONNA KILL US TOO!"

"WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT JIMMY OLSEN BEING A FOOL?"

"Oh, never mind, Bat-brain. DUCK!"

"Ducking!"

* * *

Bits and pieces of machine littered the ground.

A freeze gun was lodged in the remains of a shopping mall's parking lot at a twisted angle.

"—stupid curl!" Batman finished and punched at Superman again. It glanced weakly off his shoulder.

"Oh, shut up!" Superman wheezed back. He got a pretty good hit on Batman's ear. Batman staggered and when he would have fallen, he caught himself on Superman's shoulder. Superman put out a hand to steady him.

"Thanks," Batman said and hit him with an uppercut.

Superman's head snapped back. "No problem," he said and body slammed Batman.

It took a moment to get Batman back on his feet. Another section of his armor fell off. Now he was left with barely recognizable fragments over his feet, part of the bulky left arm, and the barest hints of the sub-armature. The Bat-suit had taken a beating and only a fourth of the cowl remained. Half of the lens of his left eye still clung to the scraps of the cowl and startling blue peeked from beneath the shards.

Superman wasn't in top form himself. For one thing, he was tired. And in pain. He was covered in soot and his cape was just a tattered scrap at his neck. His dark hair fell in his face and a scrape ran from his ear to his chin on the right side. Strangely, the 'S' on his chest looked more like a 'Q'. His battle weary mind told him that this made him 'Quperman.'

He tried to return one of Batman's ineffective punches and only slapped at Batman's head. He broke off part of Batman's ear and actually felt a little guilty. "Stupid-head," he grumbled.

He swung again.

His fingers caught in the neckline of the armor and the gray and black ripped right down the middle, the bat torn into two perfect pieces. Bruce was bruised and damp, covered in old scars. A wedge of hot, bare skin; vulnerable. Breathing so deeply the rise and fall of his chest was like an earthquake, impossible to look away from. Earth shattering.

Batman removed his own burnt and tattered gauntlets, took a swing at Clark, missed, and ended up with a full blue sleeve in his hand. The ripping noise seemed to echo.

Clark's arm stood out pale and perfect. Batman crushed the fabric in his hand and swallowed.

They both came to a halt. They stood in the center of an endless pile of destroyed city. Small fires burned here and there in the distance, reflected off the sweat on their skin. Wind blew loudly over the carnage, stirring dust and ash as it went.

Blowing their hair in tempestuous configurations.

Breathless, battered, they just glared at each other. "You look like an idiot," Batman huffed. He let the sleeve fall from his hand. Then he took a step forward and got two handfuls of the slick material of Superman's suit. He tugged.

Superman's chest was unscarred and perfect. Like marble the color of permanent farm-boy tan.

"Now we're even," Batman said, but not to Superman's face. His eyes were trained lower.

Superman took his own shaky steps toward his opponent, got hold of the sad remains of his power-suit and ripped them off. The ruined, hole-filled armature clattered to the ground. He pulled the rest of the cowl off easily and let his fingers go through Bruce's sweat-slicked hair. "No, _now_ we're even," he whispered.

Bruce had a purpling gash on one cheek and a scar near his ear that would need stitches. Clark ran his fingers over first one then the other, winching when Bruce winced.

"I'm sorry," Clark said.

Bruce worked his fingers into the short hairs at the back of Clark's head and pulled.

And the "No, _I'm_ sorry," he assumed Bruce was going to say got lost in the kiss.

"Get this damn thing off," Bruce said, struggling with the thin belt at Clark's waist.

"Yours first and the gadgets better be turned off!"

They fell atop the burnt and crumbling remains of the two cities and only came back up for air.

* * *

Bat-Mite and Mxyzptlk had to close each other's mouths.

"Not what I was expecting," Bat-Mite said after a moment's stupidity. "At least the debris stopped flying."

"Yeah," Mxyzptlk added lamely. "I'm actually speechless." He grabbed his little hat and threw it. "Somebody call the writers! I'm supposed to have the good lines!"

Bat-Mite shrugged and held out a hand. "Truce?"

"Truce," Mxyzptlk said and took it. They shook firmly. "I mean, I don't think there's any way for us to win with them playing Tonsil Parcheesi."

The pair of them stared over the wasteland. Mxyzptlk coughed at the fumes. He was pretty sure entire armies had never done as much damage in years as these two men had in mere days.

Bat-Mite rubbed the back of his cowl. "You know, I like property damage as much as the next guy, but this is a little ridiculous. I'm willing to admit when I've made a mistake."

Mxyzptlk nodded. "Yes, I'm willing to admit when you've made a mistake, too."

They faded away, pointedly ignoring the moans and groans that came from the disaster zone below.

"…planning this all along, weren't you, _Superman_? Every time you blew up my tanks!"

"Yes! God, yes!"

"Mmm…Call me 'God' again."

The End


End file.
